Super Smash Noir: The Second Chapter
by DoctorOddLove
Summary: When a beloved member of Smashville goes missing, it's up to the Super Smash Bros to once again unite and stop the conspiracy, once and for all.
1. A New Beginning

As Mario sat on the burnt grass, watching the Halberd crash out of the sky, he calmly smoked his cigar. He embraced the smoke into his lungs, as his body embraced death itself; Mario was bleeding out badly from his final battle with General Bison, he'd seen many of his friends die, but he was satisfied with just this. His mission was over, and the world was saved. The last thing he spoke to Sniper, before passing out, was:

"This is good, isn't it?"

Mario awoke with a shock, panting heavily, seeing rain and lightning from outside his bedside window. It seemed all he'd experienced was nothing but a bad dream.

"Mama mia," he gasped as he wiped the sweat from his brow, "what a terrifying nightmare. Wait, if it was all a dream, then that means-"

It meant the Illuminati never tried to destroy the world. It meant there might never have been an Illuminati to begin with. It meant his friends were alive, and not been killed. It meant someone dear to him was still alive. As he pondered these happenings, he heard the soft skin of a woman graze his left shoulder.

"Are you alright, plumber boy?"

"Yeah yeah, I'm okay, Rosalina," he sighed with relief, "just had a terrible nightmare that everyone we knew and loved had died, including-" he stopped. He thought hard about if he truly loved Peach. He thought he did. But then again, here he was in Rosalina's bed, spending another night having his affair.

"Mario honey," Rosalina pouted, "don't tell me you're thinking of that dumb Princess Apple."

Mario perked his eyes toward her, filled with rage. "Her name isn't Apple, it's Peach. More than that, she _is_ a real peach; soft, delicate, and sweet, unlike a terrible, man-stealing whore like you!"

Before Rosalina could have time to yell at Mario for this insult, Mario grabbed her by her blonde locks and slammed her face into the wooden bedframe. He could her a soft crunching sound as he did so. He found it safe to assume he'd broken her nose. He pulled his legs out from the sheets and placed his feet on the floor before putting his overalls on.

"I'm flying back to Mushroom Kingdom. Don't contact me ever again, you terrible slut. How dare you seduce me into betraying my beautiful girlfriend the way you did.

Mario walked out the wooden door and into the cold stormy night, as Rosalina cried herself back to sleep.

. . . . .

Ness's head hurt. No matter how much he PK Flashed himself, there was no way he could get out of there soon. His head from it. He had spent the last 5 days, or what felt like 5 weeks, stuck inside the basement. He and Lucas had no choice but to continuously provide PK energy to the basement generator. Up above them, the Brinstar Nightclub played luscious beats, the sounds vibrating through the lobby floor and through the basement ceiling. Ness knew that if they stopped, there would be no power. If there was no power, the managers would get angry. If the manager got angry, they wouldn't get fed that evening.

"Enough is enough." Ness perked his aching head up to see Lucas stand up defiantly.

"I don't want to die down here in the cesspit of dogshit. I may not be as brave as you are, Ness, but I certainly don't want to die down here. We're getting out of here, right now!"

"You know we can't, Lucas. You know the ceiling is too low for us to get a PK Thunder out, so we can't rocket ourselves through the door."

"Damn, you're right," Lucas sighed in defeat. They never should have talked to that man on the phone. They never should have gone to the bad part of the city to meet him, without telling anyone where they were going. They never should have signed that contract into servitude. Now, they would either die of starvation, die of disease, or die living as slaves.

"No. We're not going to die here, not today."

Lucas activated a PK Freeze on the door knob, making it cold to the touch. Due to the way science worked, it also meant it was easy to break. Ness could see what Lucas had in mind and, with a quick PK Flash, shattered the locks on the door. The noise of music, drugs, and partying upstairs on the dance floor kept anybody from hearing the disturbance. The two boys cautiously sneaked through the door, cautious of any who might see them down the basement corridors. As they made their way through, they stumbled upon a tall, slender man in purple overalls dragging an unconscious Pikachu across the floor, its nostrils covered in a mix of blood and a suspicious looking white powdered substance. As the man came close to a janitor closet to the left of the boys, he noticed them, looking like he'd been caught in a very terrible act. They stared at each other for several seconds before the man smiled and asked the boys if they wanted to join in. The boys kept on their way silently, as the man sighed and finished pulling the Pikachu into the closet with him. They cared not for the shifty rumblings they heard from behind the closed door, as they had their own problems to deal with.

They made their way down the corridor further, until at last they found the double doors leading to the stairs to the back alley of the club. They were almost out. So close to the end. All they had to do was open the doors. And yet, the only doors Lucas could think of was the single door slightly ajar, just on the right side of the hallway, several meters before the exit. A faint orange beam of light bled through the opening, entrancing the already delirious Lucas, who motioned toward this door.

"What the heck are you doing, Lucas?" Ness complained, as Lucas shuffled toward the door.

"I can't stand it, Ness. I don't know what it is but it's something in my head telling me I need to see what's beyond this door. As if, if I don't, I will never be able to forgive myself for never finding out what is there."

Ness reached his hand out to stop Lucas, but he too felt the need to figure out what mystery lied beyond the barrier of that cold steel door. Lucas only had to grace the door with his finger tip for it to silently swing open, smoothly. Their mouths dropped at what they witnessed at that moment.

All over the floors, the walls, on tables. In the dim orange light they could see it all; the charts, the maps, the manifesto, they saw all of it. They saw the start of something brewing that threatened the harmony of the city. They needed to tell someone, anyone. Sadly, they could not. They were trapped in that corridor. They could have left to tell someone, but it would not be an option for them. And that is because bullets entered and exited their brains, as someone saw them and shot them from behind with a pistol, to ensure nobody would know what was to come.

 **TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2**


	2. Mushroom Kingdom Has Fallen

Bowser sat at his desk, sharpening a wooden #2 pencil in a maroon electric pencil sharpener. This was the fourth pencil he had sharpened in the last five minutes. He was supposed to be writing up that proposition to the Mushroom Kingdom Parliament, but something was on his mind. He just couldn't think straight with his mind on something he couldn't quite grasp. His pondering was interupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in, come in," the Koopa King stuttered, as Captain Falcon entered the Oval Office.

"Morning, Mister President. You look tired."

"Yes, I am a bit tired, Falcon. I was just thinking about things."

"Things? Such as?"

"You know, the war, our previous battles against the forces of darkness, the old days when everyone wanted me dead for trying to destroy the world. And now look where I am. I have become the President of the Mushroom Kingdom, the economy is flourishing, and we're in peacetime among the neighboring nations. I've come along pretty fine for a giant, fire-breathing Koopa."

"That you have, Mister President. That you have."

"Now then, why is it you're here, Falcon?"

"Oh, right. I wanted to ask you about-"

Falcon was interrupted by the sound of his cellphone.

"Excuse me, Mister President, probably the school calling about my son getting in trouble. You gotta understand the struggles of a single father." They both chuckled at this true fact.

"This is Captain Falcon, how can I... What? How long has... How long until... by the stars... I'll let him know."

Captain Falcon put his phone away with an expression of shock on his face. Bowser looked at him with concern.

"What's happening, pal? Your son die?"

"Worse, Sir," the armored avenger looked at the President, "the White House has been infiltrated by armed thugs. The alarm hasn't gone off yet, in order to deceive them into thinking we don't know they're in yet."

"Curses," Bowser looked down and scratched his chin as he sat at his desk, feeling naked and defenseless, "what's our course of action?"

"Strap yourself in, Sir," Falcon's fists glowed with fire as he prepared to defend the Oval Office, "because we're all in for a bumpy ride."

. . . . .

Mario woke up coughing up something he couldn't quite describe from his throat. He could not see. He could not tell where he was or how he was. Cold. He could feel a slight breeze. An icy mountain? No, it wasn't that cold. His vision was returning, but he could only still see bright light. Better than nothing, he could at least tell it was daytime. The light was growing less intense, he could make out shapes. His vision was asjusting, it seemed. He could feel with his fingers, use his sense of touch until his eyes truly returned. He could feel something hard on his left buttock. Hard, but not that hard. Cardboard? He felt around with his fingers, he felt something light as air, and heard a crackling sound as he did so. Plastic. A plastic bag, perhaps. He sniffed the air. Mama mia, it stunk like a Yoshi at a Mexican buffet. Stink. Plastic. Cardboard. Trash? He must be in a dumpster.

Mario's vision finally cleared up, and he took in his surroundings. He was in a filthy green dumpster in some back alley. Despite it being a bright and sunny day out, he still felt cold, even though he still had his trademark red shirt on. Wait a minute. He wasn't wearing a shirt. He was stripped to the nude! Then what was this red? It quickly dawned on Mario that his body was covered in a red liquid that he was fairly sure was not red paint. He stumbled out of the dumpster and fell flat on his fat belly. As he got up, he saw an old newspaper laying in a dirty puddle. He usually wasn't one for the paper, as he preferred to avoid the local gossip, but the headline caught his attention.

 _Princess Rosalina found murdered inside Comet Observatory  
Prime suspect still at large_

Mario was shaken to the bone. He had just seen Rosalina, how could she be dead just like that? What shook him further was the picture provided of the "prime suspect"; it was a picture of him. What shook even further was the date on the newspaper; this paper was a week old. But how? He was just at Rosalina's the other evening? What did he do over the span of a week? What had been done to him over the span of a week?

If he was a murderer, it would explain why he was covered in blood, but why in the hell would he murder Rosalina? He jumped back a little from the shock of taking everything into his mind, knocking over a tin garbage can in the process. Out of the can spilled all sorts of trash, wasted food, and used diapers. He looked deep into the pile to see a rotting, half-eaten apple. That's when he remembered. Rosalina had insulted Peach, calling her an "Apple". Could such a petty thing have triggered him into a killer? He did not know the answers, but he knew it was his duty to figure out if or how it could. He pulled the plastic bag he found from the dumpster to cover his genitals, as well as to better hide the blood caked to his body. Mario had become a man on the run, and few would be willing to listen to him, but it was his mission now to find the truth. Mario knew, more now than ever, that he had a conspiracy to topple.

. . . . .

L, the world's greatest detective, sipped his black coffee lightly. He considered spitting it out as it had gone cold, but he decided to pour creamer into the cup to make up for it. He could at least pretend it was lukewarm coffee-based milk drink. He sat at the long, black onyx table in the meeting room for the Smash Police Department. At the other end sat an imposing figure clad in black. Black fabrics, and black weapons.

"Normally," L finally spoke, "I would not outsource to those who work outside the law, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Rosalina has been murdered, and we're sure it's by one of Smash's most famous heroes. While we've lacked the evidence to 100% prove he was behind this, there's something I know after years of doing this job. It's that if I'm wrong about something, I would have known I was wrong about it. Which is why we've turned to you."

"It's fine," the weapon clad man said, "I always believed that finding evidence merely prolongs the justice a criminal deserves to meet."

"Odd talk of justice brought to killers, when you yourself have killed hundreds."

"I am just a killer of killers. I do it for the greater good. Now, do you want me to kill Mario, or what?"

"Oh, that, of course," L got himself back on track, "we are still not allowed lethal force against Mario, as until he admits to his crime we can not deliver deadly force. Until then, we will need somebody who isn't with the Smash PD. Are you up for the job, Mr Castle?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"No, it is not... oh, I see." L was still learning to not take things so literally. The weapon-wielding man left his seat and showed himself to the door.

"Happy hunting, Mr Castle," L called out as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

"Nobody calls me Frank Castle anymore," the man said without looking back, "there is only **the Punisher**."

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Not Quite Hotel Mario

_Where am I?_

The lights were dimmed. Wallpaper peeling a little at the corners of the wall and ceiling.

 _Dumpy place. How did I get here?_

He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but he found himself unable to pull his claws toward his face.

 _What the hell?_

Bowser was laying on his back, on a firm mattress, on an aged bed frame. His limbs were sprawled outwards. He realized his arms were cuffed to the bed posts. He took in his surroundings more. Hotel room was small, but big enough for some walking room. The tube television at the end of the bed was turned on, playing the old cartoons. In fact, he recognized the one that was currently airing. _  
_

"Hey paisanos," Mario's face appeared onscreen, "it's the Super Mario Bros Super Show!"

Bowser remembered very well this groan-inducing toon, made back in his youth, before the first couple Smash wars. His biggest regret in life, other than clashing with his future friend Mario, was signing the contract allowing his likeness in those stupid children's cartoons. The actor they'd hired for them never even looked or sounded like him. He recalled quite clearly what a pain it was during his presidential campaign when his political rivals would bring up those cartoons in their attack ads against him. He cringed as the live action rap opening crawl came up, but his disgust quickly shifted to disturbance as he heard a voice singing the song, a voice not coming from the TV, but from beside him. Bowser tilted his head to the left to see a stocky young man mumbling the lyrics to the song. He wore a red t-shirt with black sleeves, his pale skin covered in a few menacing tattoos, his head shaved to leave no hair hiding his villainous grin. He turned to the captive Bowser and, with a mischievous smirk, spoke to him, "For the most powerful man in the Mushroom Kingdom, you seem to be lacking a lot of power. In fact," he sat up and placed his hand on the TV, "it looks like _I'm_ the one with all the power."

Electricity poured out of the television set and up the arm of the mysterious stranger. Bowser couldn't help noticing the man's eyes light up red. Pure red, the color of pure evil. The man took his hand off the television set, and slowly motioned toward Bowser with a hand of lightning charge.

"It took us a lot of time and effort to kidnap you, Mister President. I'm only going to ask you once, to give us the codes to the Smash Ball."

Bowser remembered everything now. The assault on the White House, Captain Falcon's attempt to protect him as mercenaries breached the oval office, how it had all been in vain as Falcon was gunned down by a super-scope barrage. Dammit all, how could this have happened? Who were these criminal scums who carried calamitious plans with them? If they wanted the Smash Ball codes, it obviously meant they wished to harness its power. And if they did that, in the wrong hands, it could wreak great havoc on the world. And Bowser, in his heart, knew that these people were definitely the wrong hands. As the electric man cam closer and closer with his high-voltage hand of death, a vibrating sound echoed from the man's pocket.

"Damn," he groaned, "probably a call from the boss man. When you have electric powers keeping your cellphone constantly charged, you can't really give your boss the excuse it was dead. Ha ha. Hmmm. Dead. Like you might be, if you don't cooperate."

The electric man extinguished the voltage from his fingers before pulling a Samsung Galaxy s7 from his pants pocket.

"This is MacGrath, talk to me boss. Yes, he's here. He's unharmed, so far. Yeah. Mhmm. That's right. Yep, I was actually in the middle of that when you called. I. Yeah? Alright. Okay, I got it. Yes. Yes! Yeah, I get it, leave him alive, fuck. Sorry. Yes, I know you don't like swearing. Christ, leave me alone. What, I can't say that either? Oh for-"

MacGrath was interrupted by the sound of the cuff links snapping apart as Bowser tore off his restraints and rushed towards him. Bowser had sworn to never kill again, that he was a changed man, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

"Buddy," the Koopa King roared, "nobody fucks with _this_ president!"

He sank his teeth into the skull of the stunned electric man, before blasting him with fire breath while the man was still stuck inside Bowser's mouth. To Bowser's surprise, the MacGrath mustered the strength to kick Bowser in the gut, causing his bite to release.

"Sorry, you big turtle," MacGrath growled as the fire was absorbed into his wounds, "but fire won't do much against me. One of the perks of having evil karma, I guess."

MacGrath's head continued to bleed profusely from where many of Bowser's sharp teeth had sank in. "That said, I'm not exactly fang-proof. I'll be making a hasty retreat for now, but you better expect us soon."

MacGrath transformed into a fiery phoenix before dashing out the glass window, which exploded outwards as he did so. Bowser gasped in surprise at this. But not only was this a surprise at his captor escaping mostly alive, it was also a gasp of relief; although this person was dangerous, Bowser was somewhat happy he hadn't killed him. He'd had enough of that during his days before the war, back before he served the Mushroom Kingdom and instead terrorized it, until the friendship of Mario and Luigi managed to turn him over a new leaf. The gasp was also towards MacGrath's Galaxy s7; it had been left behind on the floor. Bowser quickly scrambled to pick up the cellphone, but quickly relinquished his claws.

A trap, he thought, to explode in his face should he try to hear the voice on the other end of the phone. Instead, Bowser picked up the landline telephone on the nightstand and called the Smash Investigation Team.

"Hello L," Bowser breathed heavily into the phone, "I don't know how, but I'm still alive. Get me an ambulance, a bomb defusal unit, and some analysts for a phone. I believe we have a conspiracy on our hands."

 **TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4**


	4. A Fragile Alliance

_President Bowser was found unharmed in a hotel in New Por-_  
*BZZT*  
 _-as police are still at a loss for words at the death of Princess Rosalina, recen-_  
*BZZT*  
 _-hunt for Mario continues. All citizens are advised to lock their-_

Toad finally turned the television off. He had had enough. The only thing in the news these days was about murder and tragedy, made worse by the fact he personally knew some of the people hurt by these incidents. He sighed as he laid his fat head against the left arm of his apartment sofa. Bowser had been kidnapped, Rosalina had been found murdered, and his longtime friend Mario had been blamed for it all. The stress may have gotten to him a little much, as he could feel a bowel movement coming. With a sigh, he got off the sofa and headed to the restroom.

He pulled his trousers down and plopped his little rump onto the toilet seat. His butt felt a little cold sitting against the porcelain bowl, but he didn't really care about that, he just wanted this dump out of the way. He pushed, and it got really hot where he sat. He waited for the poop to come all the way out, but all he could feel was his seat getting hotter, and he heard no splash in the toilet water. Oh. Oh no. He had been so distracted by the sad recent events that he'd forgotten to lift up the toilet lid. He was sitting on a closed toilet, with feces smearing out of the tight space between his buttocks and the toilet cover. Some servant to Princess Peach he was. But this was the least of his problems at the moment. Because as he was scrambling for toilet paper, he could hear somebody opening his front door. Fuck. Someone had come to silence him for all he'd seen and done.

"That wasn't very nice of you, Toad," an Italian voice croaked as the chain bolt to the door snapped off, "I thought you were supposed to be my friend." Toad couldn't believe who he was hearing. Was it really Mario showing his face in these dark times?

"Mario? You're alright? They haven't hurt you or anything, have they?" Toad in his state of surprise slid off the toilet seat, the splattered shit acting as a lubricant to slide him off, and he fell flat on his face on the linoleum floor.

"Yeah," Mario replied as he pointed the barrel of a Model 37 Ithaca shotgun at Toad's bewildered face, "I feel good considering I was betrayed by someone like you. And no, they haven't hurt me, but I'm sure going to hurt you."

"What's the meaning of this?! What the heck are you doing pointing a gun in my face?! I thought we were friends!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the fallen plumber muttered, "but friends don't betray each other."

"Betray? What are you talking about?! I'm as confused on the matter as you are, the whole city is going crazy over Rosalina's dea-"

Mario interrupted Toad's desperate cries by pumping his shotgun.

"Save it for God," Mario spat on the floor, "he'll show you more mercy than you deserve, almost as much as I'm about to show you, which is barely any at all! I knew I'd done bad by cheating on Peach with Rosalina, and she deserved to die for bewitching me, but I have done nothing wrong! I have been framed by the corrupt system! She had seduced me into giving into my basest instincts as a human being, I've done nothing wrong. More than that, I am not a murderer. Well, not yet, anyway. But I will get to the bottom of this, I will unravel this conspiracy, and it all starts with punishing you for your misdeeds."

"Sorry to say," a gravelly voice from behind Mario croaked, "but that's my line, and more importantly, my job."

Mario had less than a second to dive to the side as Frank Castle, the terrible vigilante operating as The Punisher, unloaded his MAC-10 submachine at Mario. All his bullets missed, however, as Mario had successfully jumped out of the way to hide behind a sofa. Unfortunately, the bullets intended for Mario tore into the helpless Toad, whose body produced spouts of blood like tiny sprinklers on a lawn. Mario looked at the corpse of his former friend and, with tears of hatred in his eyes, turned his attention to the Punisher.

"You sonnuva bitch!" Mario cried as he pushed shells into the bottom of his pump action firearm, "you murderer! How could you do this?!"

"I am no murderer, I am THE PUNISHER. It's my duty to punish evildoers like you."

"Evil? Goddammit, I was framed! I never murdered anybody, there's obviously a conspiracy against me! I'm a war hero from the Subspace Crisis, why would I suddenly turn my back on humanity?"

Punisher pondered this for a moment, before slowly lowering the barrel of his Uzi. With a sigh, he placed it into his weapons holster.

"You have a point, plumber. It wouldn't make much sense for you to suddenly turn face and become a wicked force of evil. Fine. You're off the hook, for now. Just stay out of my way."

"Same to you," said Mario, as he placed his shotgun back into his trenchcoat. The scuffle between them was over, but something was amiss. They both smelled something. Something like... smoke? Specifically nicotine. But there was no fire, and there was no visible smoke in the room. Their instincts told them it was because the smoke was _in_ visible, because it was coming from an invisible source. Through an unknown sixth sense, Mario detected the threat near his being, and performed a roundhouse kick in the direction of his threat. His foot slammed into what felt like solidified air, but after hearing something make a thud on the ground, the air became statically charged electricity, in the shape of a man.

"Well," Punisher smirked, "looks like we've had a spy watching us this whole time."

"And not just any spy," Mario glared at the man on the floor, "it's the BLU Spy, of all people!"

The man on the ground chuckled as he used his remaining strength to light himself a cigarette. The blue ski mask he used to hide his identity was useless here, as over the years he'd gained a reputation throughout the mercenary underworld as a professional killer. Mario and the Punisher both knew very well who they were dealing with. If Spy was involved, surely the other members of his Team Fortress weren't far behind.

"Do you smell smoke?" Mario asked as his big nostril sniffed the air.

"Of course," said Punisher, "Spy just lit himself another fucking cigarette. Damn, he may be a criminal, but those rich bastards in the drug corporations are the bigger evil-"

"No you moron," Mario scoffed at the skull-shirt-wearing vigilante, "I smell something burning. Wait, why the heck is smoke coming out of the floorboards?"

Spy's smile turned into a malicious grin, "It looks like my friend, ze Pyro, has come to aid me."

The plumes of smoke from the floorboards grew, as hellfire erupted from cracks in the floor. Outside the apartment complex, a muffled man in a gasmask cackled with glee. In front of Mario and Punisher, a ski-mask wearing assassin laughed, even as his cigarette fell out of his mouth and onto the floor.

"Are you fucking crazy," Punisher raged, "this apartment has at least forty tenants living here, they'll burn to death!"

"Ha, I knew you wouldn't get it, you brutish punishing pus." Spy guffawed as he lit himself a new cigarette, "This never had to happen. We were the ones who made the anonymous tip to the Smash Police HQ. All you had to do was eliminate Mario, ensure nobody would sneak around trying to uncover the conspiracy, and instead you ruin things. Well, no matter. She was right, she told us you wouldn't understand the bigger picture."

"She? Who are you talking about?" Mario stammered, "Who are you paid thugs working for?"

"It matters not," Spy laughed as he lit himself a cigarette, "for we will all burn to death in this apartment complex, and you shall die knowing you could never learn the truth!"

"We'll see," Punisher began as he pulled out a grenade launcher, "about that!"

An explosion in the wall. A hole was formed. The two heroes jumped out and fell four stories down and onto the streets below. Punisher slammed into the pavement belly flop style, he heard a couple ribs crack as he landed. Mario managed to end up on both feet with little strain put on his knees. Years of taking great leaps and falls had made him impervious to such fall damage.

"Well Mario," Punisher said as he patched himself up, "I would apologize for misjudging you and your true allegiance to the city, but I don't have time. I have to track down and punish the bastards that planned this heinous act."

"No," Mario looked at the bruised and battered crimefighter, " _we_ have to track them down. We were both set up. I was framed for murder, and you were almost tricked into murdering an innocent man."

"Innocent? Toad is dead because of your actions."

"Me?! You bastard, I never shot him, you shot him!"

"Because I was aiming at _you_ , you plumbing shit!"

"Dammit, it doesn't matter, more innocent people will die if we stand here and bicker!"

"You're right. It's up to us to find out who did this and stop them once and for all."

As the two warriors nodded in agreement, they set off down the city streets as the apartment behind them burned to the ground. From the roof of a nearby building, a clown watched. Not just any clown. A deadly clown. An evil clown. A clown whose burning hatred for the world was what drove him forward. This was not the Joker, but something much more dangerous. Long had he abandoned his dream of bringing happiness to the children with his ice cream truck, and instead used it to murder those who stood in his way. Sweet Tooth, the serial killing, car driving murderer, pulled a walkie talkie from his pocket.

"Mario and Frank Castle got out of the building before it could burn them to death."

...

"Those Team Fortress mercenaries failed in their mission, but we'll ensure such an event doesn't happen again."

...

"Yes. I see."

...

"Alright then. I guess we'll initiate **Phase 2** "

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
